This is Going To Be Quite A Phone Bill
by lyelack
Summary: Absolutely no plot; purely just phone sex.


"Tell me what you want Sherlock." John says as his hand slips down to his pants. He's resting the phone in between his neck and shoulder, it's rather uncomfortable laying on the hotel bed like this but it means he now has both hands free to work with; and work them he does. He slides his right gently over the tip of his penis while his left gently fondles his balls. "Tell me what you do to me if you were here."

John can hear the sharp intake of breath at the other end of the phone call. Sherlock must have heard the quiver in John's voice as he spoke. It brought a smile to John's face knowing that Sherlock had the same reaction to him as John does to Sherlock.

"John, I didn't give you permission." Sherlock says sternly.

John bit his lower lip, there it is - the cool calm and commanding Sherlock Holmes that he has fallen in love with. "I'm not home right now because of you so the least you can do is indulge me." He playfully snapped back.

After a moment of silence from the other man John can hear some rustling. Sheets perhaps? Has Sherlock gotten into bed? Is he touching himself as well? John's imagination peaks at the thought of what Sherlock is doing right now, as does his arousal. John can himself, start to smell his arousal building; it's a heady musky scent that drives Sherlock wild when they're together. John begins stroking himself building a steady rhythm.

"I'd have you on the bed." Sherlock finally replies, "Your hands handcuffed together behind the bed board so you couldn't interfere; completely at my mercy."

John could picture it clearly because it happened so many times before. The most recent time they had been wearing lace panties. The memory of the sight of Sherlock standing at the end of the bed looking at him was intoxicating. He could remember seeing the outline of Sherlock's hard dick through the pink lace. The thigh high black stockings he wore accentuated his long muscular legs. John needed more, "What would yo-?"

"Do not interrupt me John. I am in control here." Sherlock snapped at him down the line. John loved that about Sherlock. He loved how Sherlock was always right and always had to be in control; even if at times it was bloody annoying. Usually it made John proud to be his friend but right now it was making his dick pulse harder.

There is a moment of silence; John tries to hold out for as long as he can because he knows what is happening. Sherlock is waiting for John to say the words. Words that he's uttered into his lover's ears numerous times and screamed in the middle of ecstasy. "Sherlock, please." he finally groans succumbing to his most basic, primarily need.

"You're blindfolded," John can tell by the sound of Sherlock's tone that he has a shit-eating-grin on his face, as John has come to affectionately call it. John just takes that as a sign that Sherlock is pleased with how this conversation is going; he can hear the equally heavy breathing coming down the line. He begins stroking his dick with a tighter grip; firm enough so that it's just on the right side of painful but pleasurable. "You can't see me, you can only hear and feel me. I lean down and whisper in your ear, 'I'm not going to fuck you until you beg me, and if you beg me I'm not going to stop until I'm satisfied.'"

"Oh god." John murmurs as his dick twitches in his tightening grip. His movements, measured and controlled before now become fast and jerky. He needs to cum, he needs that sweet release he can feel building deep inside him. But mostly, he needs Sherlock to give that to him, he needs Sherlock.

"I'll start with the riding crop. Lightly hitting you at first, but get harder as you start to squirm and swear under your breath." Sherlock begins, "We both know how much you love that."

John groans as the memory of the first night they used the riding crop came back to him. John couldn't sit properly for the next two days, and that wasn't entirely all the crop's fault. His pace quickens.

"Maybe I'll do what we did in Cardiff, you remember that don't you John?"

Sherlock was teasing him now, how could John ever forget what they did in Cardiff? Sherlockhad John tied to table that night, gag in mouth, legs spread so far apart they were beginning to ache until Sherlock started teasing him. He began by lightly slapping his thighs and buttocks with the riding crop. John would involuntarily moan and wiggle with each slap. It was ruthless torture on the mind being helpless like that but so pleasurable to his body. Sherlock, after making John come the second time that night then changed tactic. He was kneeling behind John, spreading his cheeks apart, licking John's puckered hole. He would alternate between hitting it with the riding crop for a minute or so and licking and sucking it. It drove John wild and gace him one of the most memorable orgasms he has ever had. "Ahh, Sherlock." John moaned at the memory.

"I won't fuck you John, not until you beg. And I make you beg until you you're on the verge of tears. Until you cannot absolutely take it anymore."

John can feel it burning inside him as his release builds. He can feel his heart slamming in his chest and the blood pumping through his body.

"I fuck you slow. Agonizingly slow." John can hear how breathless Sherlock is getting. "You'll begging me to stop but I won't. Not until I'm done, not until I'm completely satisfied. I won't touch you John. I won't lay a finger on your dick, the only way you will be coming is with my dic-"

John cuts Sherlock off calling out as he cums, "Sherlock! Oh god!". He drops the phone on the bed for a few seconds as he gathers himself. Taking a few deep breaths with his eyes closed he takes a few moments to bask in the afterglow. The images of what Sherlock was describing still played in his mind like a movie; one he never wanted to end.

"John? John are you there?" Sherlock asks a little panicky.

"Yeah, I am." John replies suddenly tired. "I just dropped the phone after I came. Did you?"

"No, and I'm not finished with you, John Hamish Watson." Sherlock retorts, "I still have plans for you yet."

John laughs into the receiver, "Well how about next time you send me cross country on a investigation you come with me then?" He loved these moments just after sex where Sherlock would let his guard down. They were happening more frequently as time went on and honestly, John couldn't deny it was another turn on for him.

"When you get home," Sherlock said a softness coming into his voice, "you are going to come apart for me; because of me. You're mine and you know it. You have my heart John, because you are my heart. Goodnight John."


End file.
